


A Damn Shame

by PugPackage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Team Fortress 2
Genre: Crossover, Deadlock McCree, Drabble, Gen, more self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PugPackage/pseuds/PugPackage
Summary: McCree's first raid goes wrong in the worst possible way.





	A Damn Shame

**Author's Note:**

> WHERE MY TF2/OVERWATCH CROSSOVER FICS AT smh   
> this is super tiny but it's a crossover fic. where ya'll at?

It had gone wrong, McCree’s first raid with Deadlock had gone completely wrong. They’d gotten all of five minutes in it until the person they sent ahead to scope out the target came running back, shrieking at the top of his lungs to run before something even he couldn’t see whizzed past. Smashing the man’s skull in with a whoop.  
He’d never admit it but he turned tail and ran before anyone else did, but paid the price. There’s a sharp crack and a pain blooming in his leg and he tumbles, down to the ground. A child amongst panicking men. Jesse tries to cry out, tries to get help. No one can hear him and frankly, no one cares. He’s a new recruit, who care if he dies.  
Someone back at their base did but that was beyond the thoughts of the other members at the moment.  
After crying out for a good half an hour or so every man is gone or dead, leaving McCree to lay on the ground and cry to himself. Convinced whomever had ambushed him was going to up and fillet him like a prime fish.  
He tenses up as the sound of boots approaching, a mocking tongue clucking accompanying it. “Well ain’t this a bloody shame.” Comes a familiar accented growl, as the familiar brown boots poking out of long khaki pants circle him, stopping in front of McCree as he sobs into the ground. “You can teach a kid to shoot, but you just can’t teach him common sense.”  
McCree hiccups. “Y-ya’ll don’t know me. You ain’t my pa you can’t tell me what to do.” His trembling voice ruining any defiance he might have been trying to portray.  
A scoff.  
“I know you better than your damn mum, brat. And I sure as shit give more of a damn than your dad. But you’re right, I’m not your dad. So here’s the deal, ya damn ingrate. You run along back to that little boys club of yours, and don’t never come back. Because if I see that fuckin’ cowboy hat of yours around here,”  
The legs bed, the man crouching down and knocking McCree’s hat off, yanking his dirty tear streaked face up so he’s looking the man right in his yellow aviators. The husky growl shaking him to his bones.

**“I’m gonna blow the inside of your head all over four counties.”**


End file.
